Choice
by Sanctimonious Ape
Summary: They have turned. No more the peaceable creatures, they take war to the Nether, to recruit the beasts of that World to help them defeat the true monsters. They are the People, their quarry the Minecrafters.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh, Hello. You've decided to read my first publication. Thank you. I promise not to let you down.  
I plan to delve into the mystery of Endermen, because I find them more subtle than both the Wither and witches. Maybe, I might add them in, in later instalments.  
To start, some terms may baffle you. Here are some 'Facts' I've established for myself.  
Firstly, 'The People' is what Endermen call themselves.  
They are also gender-neutral.  
Finally, they are the 'Perfect' evolvement of Minecrafters.**

Creeping behind an obsidian pillar, I tightened my grip on my bejewelled sword. I swapped my pumpkin helm for one of enchanted, near indestructible diamond. The need for hiding was over. One more strike, and I could return to my people sane. The harsh shrieking roar of the tortured beast rent the air, snapping my nerve. It swooped in to face me, purple gore leaking out its nightmare jaws. I ran up the snout with a triumphant shout and embedded my blade up to the hilt, into the fearsome flesh of the Enderdragon.

I had been treated like a child, my belief that there was a greater power over me than that of the Nether. My wife a servant in the King's castle had dismissed my 'fantasies' as she called them. She refused to let me tell the children.

That would change. I would return with the egg and I would be a revered hero. I would be King.

The dragon disappeared in a flash of white light and black smoke. This would be a great addition to my journal. Avoiding the stares of the End's strange denizens I started to ascend the Bedrock nest left behind. It was soaked with purple blood, which made the ascent needlessly difficult. Finally I reached the egg and started to mine through its jet shell. Unfortunately the black broke in my hand.

I cursed, a splinter having been driven itself into my knuckle. I tended to the minute wound, gasping as I managed to pull out the miniscule shard. I looked back at the egg. It was still cracking, with no one mining it. A sliver was pushed away, revealing a violet glow from inside.

Untold beauty awaited me. Around the smooth, human skull sized pearl, was entwined a lean black dragon curled round so that its skinny tail touched its baby soft snout. The dragon was as long as my arm but half its width. The gurgle of soft hums mixed with vicious roars made no sense as they dribbled out of the young creature's cruel, carnivorous grin.

I lifted the glowing pearl, out of the cracked egg, delicately. Underneath the fluids of life which had nourished the Enderdragon's spawn, the colourless orb, full of red, gold, green, purple and black yet filled with none. It promised chaos, anarchy and endless deaths, but also warned of order, civilisation and eternal life.

Threads of blue and silver the colours not really there, shot through the gaping expanse that was the point of knowledge. It made me unsure of what was really there. Then again, why would I really need to be sure of? The sphere of the End was a baby in my hands, spreading warmth through my body, yet it was the oldest thing I'd ever touched. So many paradoxes encapsulated in one small globe.

"Who are you, stranger?" asked the Enderspawn.

"I am the embodiment of the People. " I answered, allowing the dragon child to crawl up my long arm and rest on my shoulders. I teleported back to the hunk of Endstone hovering in the abyss of the End. I found a strange book in my hand. The primitive runes on the cover shivered and arranged themselves into End, a language I knew 'The Journey into the End.'

Intrigued, I flicked through the pages watching as my pearl translated the scrawls into something dignified.

"What do you think of this, Enderspawn?" I enquired as a drip of purple blood clouded the harsh black scribbles.

"I cannot read this language or any other." It replied, staring down at the browning parchment.

Suddenly the drip of sacrificial ink soaked into the pages, taking the bold characters of End with it. The book seemed to consider the fluid, then, miraculously, the leaves of vellum filled with intricate diagrams more text, and incredibly details that no artist could ever hope to match. The ink was purple fading to blue then back again. The paper turned deepest black, and the cover darkened to an intense purple. The title shook, reforming into 'the Encyclopaedia'.

I turned to a new page, the book continued to be written.

"What is this sorcery?" I whispered.

The book flicked through its own pages, to the beginning, where I began to read.

"This 'sorcery', Reader, is the combination of your journal and a drop of Enderdragon blood. It is a comprehensive guide to the future of the End; therefore, it includes your own."

Baffled, I blinked. The characters were changed. The message was now quite a bit less personal.

"The Encyclopaedia is a book written in the hopes of educating the People of both the past, and the future of their race.  
Contents:  
Origins: page 2  
The End's Physics: Page 16  
Th..."

The table of contents ended there, but continued to write itself.

I left the book to its own devices, as Spawn asked me, in a voice that scintillated through tones, genders and emotions, "Where is my parent?"

Our gazes turned skyward. The void was somewhat emptier without the presence with our fearsome guardian. I shook with rage.

"Gah! Minecrafters!" I spat. Them and their imbecilic diversity. "You shall rue the day you slew our custodian!"

Those pious morons, they shaped the World Above like they were the sole inhabitants. They thought they knew best. I looked around, seeing shattered diamond tools and armours. Yes, a Minecrafter had been here.

Seeing the Encyclopaedia as a font of all knowledge, I asked what became of Spawn's parent, to confirm my suspicions.

"The Enderdragon, The pinnacle of existence and a true personification of Order, was cruelly slain by that known as a Minecrafter."

"Where can I find it?" I demanded.

"Your pearl holds the answer." was the cryptic answer.

I rubbed its surface, revealing my face. Simplicity and Efficiency entwined. I touched my reflection's nostrils. They protruded, on some facial bulge. It was pink. Slowly, my reflection began to change, becoming complex and ugly. I was now a Minecrafter. I hurriedly rubbed it again, letting out a cloud of excretion, which would quickly decompose into air. Thankfully, I was normal again.

"Who am I?" I asked myself.

The book seemed to know the answer.

"You, like all of the People, started life in a world that is not our own. However, you are now the parent to that known as Spawn, and you must allow it to grow, lest you meet misfortune. You may consider fighting the Minecrafters, so acts of this disgusting crime shall never happen again. You will need allies, more than your own race. You must become a leader."

I shut the book, grateful for its reassuring knowledge, and placed it on a pile of obsidian nearby. The pearl went on top.

"Your name, child, is Spawn... and I am..." I started, trailing off into the void.

"What?"

"I am... the Enderguardian."

Each of the People had their own opinion. We may have been the People, but we were far from united - maybe more than the Minecrafters, but still not one.

I climbed onto the edge of the bedrock nest, allowing Spawn to curl around my neck for safety.

"Who is fed up with the tyrannical Minecrafters?" I asked the End at large.

"Who wishes to be free of their prejudice? They shape our worlds as they see fit and they call us monsters, just because we return their buildings to natural order?"

Already, one or two of the People had mingled into a small group.

I aimed for 50, if not 100 hundred of the People.

"Who has had an acquaintance murdered for their pearl?"

I counted 25, continually growing.

"As the self-anointed Enderguardian to the Enderdragon's heir, I ask the People to take the fight to the Minecrafters, rather than wait here, for the inevitable conclusion, when they come for us, slay us and take our pelts as trophies?"

Spawn jumped off my shoulders, slinking into the crowd. My goal of 100 had already been passed, and my audience was a seething mass of black and purple, the true colours of the world, the insignia of life.  
"What do you suggest we do, Enderguardian?" asked someone in the rabble, Spawn, no doubt.

"Do you know of the Nether, Person?" I asked, masking my secret admiration for spawn in a business-like tone.

"I have heard; another place of Chaos?"

A few murmurs went through the People.

"Yes, another place of Chaos. But, it serves our purpose. The People alone cannot fight the Minecrafters. We must ask, command the beasts of the nether to aid our cause.

More murmurs. The People liked this.

"Come, let us rid the worlds of the Minecrafterian Scourge!" I practically screamed. There were shouts of allegiance, promises and pledges one could not keep.

Then, the End was empty, silent once more.

Yes, the People had their own opinion: Mine.

**So? Do you think I should continue? I plan to. Reviews are immensely welcome, be they my style, the formatting or something I have not noticed. Please be harsh, so I can improve.  
P.S 'Minecrafters' refers to Steves, 'Minecraftians' are the 'proper' names for Testificates. Confused? It might get a whole lot worse... **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again. Just here for some pre-chapter preparation.  
Warning! The following chapter is speech heavy. Also includes lots of made-up lore.  
My first reviewer, Someone else, receives my patented 'Gimmick character' reward. He appears as Sm-ne-el, the drunken zombie pigman. Granted, it's not much of a cameo, but if you like his accent please state so (I know I like the accent.) If I do get enough feedback, maybe he'll reappear sober. Anyways, enough of my prattle.  
**  
The sounds of Freedom, liberation from the material realm are delicious. Heaven for all who hear it.

I decided to materialise at my current position. The Nether, land of brimstone and fire, and the second realm of Chaos. A pungent wave of air-starved atmosphere flooded my lungs. I choked, irrationally fearing that for a second that I might die.

I silenced the sensation, focused my pores on producing a nimbus of clean air, and allowed my lungs to shrink, meaning that the minimal air I now produced was enough for my systems. The preparations were temporary, and I would have to work on the quick performance.

Moments later after my charade, Spawn materialised as well, using my existence as an anchor. We were joined by two of the people. They had a brief coughing fit, and created their own atmospheres.

"You two, being the first to join Spawn and myself, can be my companions. You guard the dragon and me at all times." I said, making my heart pump at twice its previous rate, allowing me to move.

Toilet breaks would not be a problem. The People did not have to bend or expose themselves. Excrement was simply part of us. True, lots had to be jettisoned to enable transport, but foul odour and long-term waste products were no more. Instead, the purple, quick disintegrating shards of End were the only output from our bodies.

The mass of my army began to appear. I told my new assistants to take a head count. In total, we had 1,520. To compare, I asked the encyclopaedia for the numbers of the Minecrafters.

"Time will tell."

Stupid book. It did not offer more. I entrusted the tome to one assistant, coming up with the name 'Librarian'. The assistant took it, warping it into the Person's possessions.

"We have a long march ahead. We will divide into units of ten, and proceed north." I called over the heads of our troops.

"Why not teleport?" came the answer.

"If, in the likely consequences, the creatures do turn against us, we need the element of surprise." I told this troublemaker who was quick to undermine me.

There were signs of understanding. Perhaps my authority was still intact.

The People slowly set off into the Nether.

Eventually, we dug out some simple abodes, covered craters, which were easily camouflaged.

They would have to do.

The Librarian, Spawn and I, once everybody was preoccupied, travelled further north, leaving the other assistant in charge. Terrible creatures, akin to floating jellyfish shrieked to each other, a few descending to take a soak in the lava sea.

"Pardon my asking, Guardian, but you seem sure-footed." The Librarian asked, taking a step to my side.

"Indeed." contributed Spawn, harsh particles blowing over his shoulder, which quickly turned to ash in the humidity.

"I remember a lot of this world, despite never being here" I said, looking up at the flock of Ghasts. Two started belching fire at each other, as if to prove one was better than the other.

"Much of its mythos and peoples have left me. Netherrack, Soulsand. The ores and properties of soils come easily to me. Perhaps I lived here once. A previous life spent here in the Nether, maybe?" I asked myself.

Grunts pierced my thoughts. "Halt, surfacers! State yer business on dah lands oth Warchief Ad-gr-um."

I looked up at a stalactite with an outpost incorporated between spike and body. Four reanimated pigmen, their wounds too numerous to explain continued life, aimed stolen bows down at the three of us, each fitted with a burning arrow.

They would have no chance of hitting us, if they tried. We would just teleport out of the arrows' flight.

"I'm gunna ask yoo agains. What'cha doing here?" demanded the leader, a leather breastplate tied over one shoulder, the other peeled away to show battle scars on his ribs.

"Us? Us surfacers?" I asked, somewhat cheerfully. "My companions and I were going to see what merriment and joy was happening over there, in that festival."

The leader leant over the railing, extinguishing the arrow and sliding it into the quiver at his hip.  
"Dat, Merriment and joy? Dat, my friend, is Scourgestruggle fair. 'Pose I can let yoos through for dat. Plus, nones of yoo is carrying any weapons. Just don't kick up no fuss, ya hear? Ours Warchief is hosting this time, and if yoos embarrass him in front of Flâm or Ryjick, wells..."

He grimaced at me, bristles curving under his rotted teeth. "Wells, I don't need to tell you 'bout that, does I? I've warned yoos, 'kay?"

I nodded, "Thank you, kind sir. We'll be on our way."

He grunted at me. "Keep yous 'sirs' to yourself, thank ye." He wafted me on with a gauntleted hand, moving back to an overturned crate that served as a game table, where both cards and nuggets of pure gold were distributed.

"Excuse me, but could you tell us more about this fair?" I called.

"No. Get outta here, either to the fair, or back where yoos came from. Ask some drunk, not me." came the haughty answer.

We followed the demands, walking down to a bridge made out of highly compacted nether brick, which still threatened to burn my feet. I simply nullified the situation, making my heels leather.

Overhead, a sombre piece of music blanketed the fair, and a few whoops, shouts and profanities rent the air.

"Civilisation must adapt to habitat." Librarian said sagely. I agreed.

In a large, ornate gateway, two squads of four pigmen guards stood, each eyeing us over their iron breastplates or from under mail coifs. They were slumped against the wall, a fearsome blade strapped to every back.

"Librarian, if you could wait here with these delightful fellows until I summon you?" I suggested.

"Of course, Guardian." He answered, slumping amongst them. Some lazily swore at him, but settled down after it was clear he would not budge. Almost immediately, they were in a card game. Gambling seemed order of day in this twisted realm.

The bright colourful stalls were filled with all the races of the nether; Blazes, Magma cubes and of course, Zombie Pigmen. Strangely, a few plain skeletons had joined in the festivities. That did not disrupt the mood, as each and every one of the races were either drowning themselves in vibrantly hued liquors, or playing simple card games for nuggets.

Taking heed of the watchman's advice, I sat down next to a passed out pigman.

"Excuse me." I said, prodding him.

"Hugh? What'cha wants?" He said, opening his intact eye.

"I'm a nomad. I want to learn about this fair."

"Guess I ain't got nuthin' betta to do. Name's Sm-ne-el."

"I asked about the fair, not you."

Sm-ne-el laughed, a grunt combined with a long, drawn out whine.

"Heys, yoo's bein' soci-socia... friendly. Anyhoo, Scourgestruggle Fair's 'bout us Nether men goin' to the World Above. It was hundreds of years ago, so I betcha dem's taken down all da portals. I know he did."

The drunken warrior had another laughing fit, smashing a fist into the table. He snatched up his flask of potion, taking a long swig, and then belching.

I considered zoning out the noxious fumes, but changed my mind after they proved not to be fatal.

"Course," He said, scratching his chin, "dem Wither weren't involved, so deys don't take no part in dah Fair. In fact, dey's one of the reasons we don't hold it sometimes."

"What happened?"

"Well, dem stuck up Viners got in, and they started marching around like dey owned the place."

"So, what happened?" I repeated, feeling the conversation lull.

"Well, dey did some funny majicks, and all dem Corpses from da War got up. Mean, some dem alr'dy did, but dis was tons.  
Some dose Minecrafters came in too, looking for gunpowder, and dey and deh Viners got in fights. Dropped dem in da lava, and dat's how deh Charcoalers were born."

"Sorry, what? Who dropped who? Charcoalers?" I asked, baffled by the terminology.

Sm-ne-el scratched his skull, pushing aside a flap of flesh to get to a point that, by normal anatomy should have been unreachable, and then explained.

"Viners dunked de Minecrafters and dose Wither," He snorted softly, putting a skeletal hand to his mouth, clandestinely, "Charcoalers to deh Pigs, are what came out."

"And you... celebrate these wars?"

"Yup. Deh factions take it in turns to host. When dah Blazes do it, they hold it in The Citadel. Dah Cubes... some cliffs. Don't remember too well. I'm pretty fogged up. But we hold it here."

"Indeed. Can you tell me more about this Citadel?" I implored.

"Shure. The Citadel. Wells, its da biggest fortress I'd did seen. Think dah Old Pigs built it. As a hospital-"

"Who are the 'Old Pigs'?"

Sm-ne-el paused, looking over at me through his bloodshot eye. "Look, buddy, you keep asking deese questions, I can't keep up. I'm drowning here." He paused for another swing of potion. "Dah Old Pigs. Dey weren't like us. Dey had Skins all over. And were smart. Yeh, Dead smart. They came from the World Above, and they did Knowledge. 'Course, Viners burnt it all in dah Fights."

"They burnt it? That's setting-"

Dey can't read Pig!" The warrior snorted, bursting into his strange laughter. A few other nether beings looked up, but returned to slumber soon after. Sm-ne-el smashed a fist into the counter, throwing some nuggets on the table. A skeleton refilled his flask, and then handed it back to him, sliding the nuggets off the counter and putting them into a chest nearby.

The pigman took a few gulps, and then settled back into the story. "Anyhoos, Citadel's a hospital. 'Cause oth da Virus. Dat's what made dem Corpses get up in dah first place. It brings dead stuff back. It re..."

"Reanimates." I prompted.

"Dat's dah one." The pig grunted. My silence also seemed a prompt. "Yah's all out of questions, buddy?"

"Not quite. I'd like to know why the Blazes were employed in this Citadel."

"Dey's good workers. Fight well too. Just like us. But," He leaned over. "We fight in teams. Dem's loners and cowards. If one gets hurt, well, deh'll leave him. Wheeze ain't like dat. Wheeze bruddhas. We looks out for each other." Sm-ne-el fell off his chair.

"One more thing, please."

"Yep?"

"Where can I find the leaders of each faction?"

"Oh, daze probably in a blaze den. Taking deh good stuff."

"Thank yo. Your support is invaluable."

"Yous too, buddy."

I left Sm-ne-el to his rest.

**Due to all the references to alcohol and gambling, and even that slight reference to drugs just now, I decided this story isn't K+. I'm putting it as T, to be safe, but I can assure you that this (dis) level of referencing is a bit strong for my tastes. I'll tone down in the next chapter, but I wanted people to get a feel of the decrepit, corrupt world the Nether is. Real hell. Please review as always, and give me something I can work with.**

**P.S Interested in the Virus, Citadel, 'Old Pigs' and Scourgestruggle fair? I'm going to elaborate on my lore over the course of the book. It's a subject I can really get into. If you want a somewhat looser version, look up Homen Pigman on Minecraft forums or something. It's based on that, but I added some of my own feel to it. I'll take my leave now. **


End file.
